I have a friend whom I miss dearly. Such a long time has passed. Too many things going on.
This evening, I see her in the milonga. Radiant. I dance a tanda with her and it was marvelous. The evening continues and many tandas pass—Neither of us are able to catch up.
The evening draws to a close, and we have said our goodbyes. Dancing shoes turn into street shoes. Coats are donned, as we are all dressed to go our separate ways into the cold, wet Seattle night.
The last song of the tanda comes. One parting look at my friend as the music blares. We dance in the small space in between chairs, tables, and amidst people ready to leave—fully clothed in cold weather street attire.
One beautiful song, one last beautiful tango, one beautiful friend, one last dance goodbye.
2 comments:
that was so beautiful. Never miss the chance to say something or dance one last time. Our opportunities can be so few, our time so short.
...oh Ampster...those little morsels of dances off the pista are the sweetest...because they are the most spontaneous and heartfelt.
...but these are never "one last dance goodbye"s...they are simply a prelude of the the dances that wait ahead...a waft of the perfume of the dances that wait for us.
besitos, and thank you so much for for the dance(s).
Kita
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